


The Post-Game Wrap Up

by Notime33 (Professor_Saber)



Series: Notime33's Back to the Future Continuations [2]
Category: Back to the Future (Movies), Back to the Future: The Game
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, but really when doesn't bttf involve alternate universes or timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Saber/pseuds/Notime33
Summary: After their adventure in 1931, Marty and Doc find that there have been other changes to the timeline upon their return; changes other than the marriage between Tannen and Strickland.A sequel toLoose Ends, Loose Memories, and an alternate ending to The Game.  Basically, it welds the game with my planned BTTF universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my drive for over four years! I think it's about time to post it, don't you? I'm hoping I can get to the rest of my series out relatively soon; I have three more outings in various states of planning and writing. I just hope it won't take four more years!

Thursday

May 15, 1986

3:55 P.M.

 

Doc and Marty, still stunned at the turn of events, waved goodbye as Edna Strickland—or rather, Edna Tannen—got into her husband’s car. With a cheerful wave goodbye from both of them, Kid Tannen drove them away.

“What do you think, Doc?” Marty said at last.

Doc slowly walked backwards. “Don’t say anything,” he said. “Let’s just walk quietly into the lab and hope there are no more surprises.”

Doc soon turned around and headed swiftly towards the garage. Einstein looked at Marty, tilting his head in confusion.

“Like he said," Marty told the dog. “Let’s hope there aren’t any surprises."

Marty picked up the dog’s leash and followed Doc into the lab.

Thankfully, there were no surprises—or there didn’t appear to be any. Doc looked briefly around the lab and summed up the situation nicely: “It looks almost empty,” he said.

“Well, you had me sell a bunch of stuff,” Marty said. He took the leash off Einstein, who then went to his dog bed and lied down.

“Yes,” Doc said, “and I’m grateful for that. It will make the transition to 1994 much easier.”

Doc quickly ran about the lab, quickly inspecting some of the remaining items. When he saw the amplifier, he grimaced. There was some damage to the speaker—not as intense as when Marty blew it on the morning of October 25, but there was still noticeable damage.

“Did you crank it up all the way again?” he asked.

“Only the overdrive,” Marty said. He walked over and indicated the dial in question. “Biff had gotten a hold of your notebook, and he was fiddling with my guitar, so I turned it up and it knocked him back. I had to do it, Doc.”

Doc sighed. “Well, the damage doesn’t look too serious. Do you think you could fix it on your own?”

”I’ve already done that, Doc,” Marty said. “How long are you gonna be staying here?”

“I’d like to leave tonight. Now, Marty,” he said at the teen’s sullen look, “I understand that it’s been a long time from your perspective—.”

“Six and a half months,” Marty said.

“Right. But it had been only a few weeks between when I last met with you in 1985 and when we ‘reunited’ in 1931. One of the perils of time travel is this sort of time dissonance—as I’m sure you know by now! If I was to stay here, I’d be gone from my family for eight years! I think I've been gone long enough already."

“Right, Doc,” Marty said. “I get it.”

Doc put a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. Oh, I almost forgot why I was planning to come here in the first place. Wait just a minute!”

He ran outside to the DeLorean and returned a minute later with a large, leather-bound book. He handed it to Marty.

“Your graduation present,” Doc said. “I know it’s a bit early, but I need to give it to you now.”

The book bore the title _The McFlys of Hill Valley_ in gold leaf. Marty began flipping through the book.

“Whoa, this is great, Doc,” he said. He smiled. “I mean it. Is this why you were in ‘31?”

“Yep,” Doc said. “I could find very little information on your grandmother Sylvia, which is why I went there -- to see for myself.” He laughed. “I think we both got a bit more than we wanted to know.”

“No kidding,” Marty said, thinking of the ‘artistic’ nude postcards of his then very young grandmother that he had seen in 1931.

“I imagine you’ll enjoy it more than you would have ordinarily,” Doc said, “seeing as how you’ve now met most of your ancestors in person!”

“Yeah,” Marty said, looking at a page dealing with his great-grandfather William. Pointing to his picture, he said, “Holy shit, he was the mayor?!”

“For one term, yes.”

Marty shook his head in disbelief. “Strickland always says that the McFlys ‘never amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley.’”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Doc said. “I imagine he would say that even if one of your ancestors had become President of the United States.”

Marty grinned at that. “So does this talk about Seamus?” he asked. “How come he ended up dying in 1968? You know, I still don’t have any memory of that.”

To Marty’s surprise, Doc looked flustered. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “I don’t know _why_ it happened, but it’s covered. Turn to page 38.”

Marty did so, and saw a reproduction of the front page of the _Hill Valley Telegraph_ for June 22, 1968. The front-page, banner headline read: _SEAMUS MCFLY DEAD: Hill Valley’s Oldest Man Passes Away at Age 108_.

“It’s pretty heavy,” Marty said. “It’s like he knew who I was and wanted to live long enough to see me again.”

“Uh, I suppose it would seem like that, yes,” Doc said. “Though that would be a fairly mystical explanation.”

Marty stared at Doc for a moment. He began to wonder if Doc had something to do with Seamus’ unusual longevity in the most recent timeline. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but then Doc sighed and said, “I suppose we should face the music and check the rest of Hill Valley.”

”Yeah,” Marty said. ”I haven‘t seen the real Jennifer or my real family for days.”

Doc nodded. “Your truck’s out front. Help me get the DeLorean into the lab, and then you can check on your family and Jennifer.”

“Okay,” Marty said.

Ten minutes later, the DeLorean was safely inside the garage/lab. They had some difficulty moving it, as they first had to move a table that blocked the garage door from inside.

“You should probably go ahead and see your family and Jennifer,” Doc said. “I’ll wait here; check the TV and newspaper for major changes.” He got a far-off look in his face. “I wonder if I could create a database of newspaper articles that could automatically detect changes to the timeline. Of course, that would require some way to isolate a collection of articles from changes. How this could be done…”

“Doc, you’re losing me,” Marty said.

“Never mind, Marty, never mind,” Doc said. “You get going. We can meet back here in, oh, two hours.”

“Right, Doc,” Marty said as he left.

 

* * *

 

Marty arrived in his truck at Jennifer’s house ten minutes later, only for her father to tell him she was out at Lone Pine Mall with her friends.

Marty shook his head as he got back into his truck.

“Damn, I wish she had one of those portable phones,” he muttered to himself. His father had one; it was shaped like a brick and weighed just about as much. George found it more of an inconvenience than anything else, and usually didn’t carry it with him. Marty felt that defeated the whole purpose of having the thing, but he supposed the four thousand dollar brick was a status symbol more than anything else. He didn’t know anyone else who had one. He didn’t even know _of_ anyone else who had one.

Marty sat behind the wheel of his truck for several minutes, pondering his next course of action. He had gone to Jennifer’s house partly because it was closer to Doc’s. However, while his house was on the way to the mall, he wondered if he should check on Jennifer first.

He decided he just _had_ to see Jennifer, so he drove directly to Lone Pine Mall. After all, he reasoned, there were two ways to get to the mall from Jennifer’s house, and the one that did not go by his house was probably quicker.

When he got to the mall, he saw the beat-up hatchback belonging to one of Jennifer’s friends, Michelle Poole, parked near the Lone Pine sign. The mall’s lot was surprisingly packed for a weekday. Then again, it was spring break, and enough of Hill Valley’s teenagers had remained in the town to pack the place.

Marty parked his truck—luckily for him, he found a spot close to the door of JC Penney—and then checked around the crowded mall for almost half an hour before he spotted Jennifer and her friends outside Circuit City.

“Jennifer!” he shouted, getting on his tip-toes to see over the crowd. Fortunately for him, Jennifer heard him. She spotted him and waved. Marty rushed over.

Jennifer and her two friends—Michelle, who she had known since elementary school; and Lisa Hossfeld, who was the girlfriend of the Pinheads’ drummer, Steven—each had a shopping bag.

“Marty, what are you,” Jennifer began, but she was cut off when Marty kissed her. She was so surprised she dropped her bag on the floor.

“Are you okay, Marty?” Jennifer asked, confused.

“Oh, I’m fine!” Marty said, with enough force that it probably sounded unconvincing. He smiled at the other girls awkwardly. “Hello.”

“Is Steve with you?” Lisa asked.

“No,” Marty said. He noticed that Michelle was visibly relieved by this. She had recently been dumped, and he knew that she would definitely not want to be the fifth wheel between two close couples.

“I was, uh, getting you something, actually,” Marty said to Jennifer.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“There doesn’t have to be an occasion!” Marty said. He bent down to pick up her shopping bag. While doing so, he whispered, “Doc’s back in town. Something happened.”

Jennifer nodded ever so slightly, and then flashed a big fake smile at her friends.

“That’s very sweet of you, Marty,” she said. “Actually, there’s something at Robinsons I liked. Would you mind getting it for me?”

“Not at all,” Marty said.

Jennifer turned to her friends. “Can I meet you at the food court in, oh, fifteen minutes?”

Lisa and Michelle exchanged looks of exasperation.

“Sure,” Lisa said.

“Thanks,” Jennifer said. She then grabbed Marty by the arm and the two quickly left in the general direction of Robinsons.

“What do you mean, ‘something happened’?” Jennifer hissed. “You messed with things again?”

“Yeah,” Marty said, looking around. He wasn’t eager to talk about time travel in public. He couldn’t help but think of the time Old Biff overheard them. He grabbed her wrist.

“If we‘re gonna talk about this, we should do it somewhere private,” he explained.

“And where would that be?” she asked.

After looking around, Marty led her to the small hallway that led to the bathrooms. It was long and empty.

“This should work,” he said. He sighed. “I’m not sure we should talk about it now. You know, in detail. But the gist is that I went back with Doc to 1931 and messed history up twice.”

“Twice?” Jennifer laughed. “You’re trying to top yourself?”

“Very funny, Jen,” he muttered. “Point is, I wiped you from existence the first time, and then I created this warped, Orwellian version of Hill Valley, with Doc as the dictator.”

Jennifer stared at him for a moment as she took this in. Finally, she barked, “Wait, _what?!_ ”

“I broke up your Grandpa Parker and grandmother before your father was born,” he said. “Did you know he was the bodyguard for _my_ Grandpa?”

“No,” Jennifer said, waving her hand dismissively. “What the hell do you mean, ‘Doc was the dictator’?” She frowned. “And what do you mean by ‘bodyguard’?”

“Grandpa was going to testify against Kid Tannen. Biff’s father; he ran a speakeasy,” he explained. “I’m surprised he’s never mentioned that. Well, I got my grandpa to run away, so your grandpa lost all confidence and ended up not arresting Kid Tannen like he was supposed to. And to top it off, his girlfriend left him, meaning you were never born!

“Anyway, I fixed that, and then there was this weird world. Doc had married Strickland’s sister, and she really warped his mind. They’d taken over Hill Valley and turned it into a mini Big Brother kinda thing. I was a total tool there, but you were this punk rocker who was dating Leech.”

Jennifer’s eyes got wider and wider as Marty continued his tale. When she finally found her voice, she asked, “Wait, Leech? _Needles’s_ friend?!”

“Yeah,” Marty said, “but that’s not really the point.”

Though Jennifer had to agree, she wanted to know more about her ‘other self.’

“And a punk rocker?” she asked. “What, with pink hair, like Tiff Tannen?”

“Purple hair,” Marty said. “Well, more multicolored. Tattoos, short skirt, piercings...”

“Oh?” Jennifer asked innocently. She came close to him and put an arm around his neck. “Was I hot?”

“Eh, sorta.” Marty smiled. “Though you reminded me a little of that girl Needles goes out with, what’s her name?”

“Her name’s Lauren, I think.”

“Yeah, her. It creeped me out a little.” He kissed her. “Do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t change anything about you, okay?”

Jennifer smiled slyly. “Only if you do _me_ a favor.”

“What?”

“Don’t muck with my family history anymore, okay?”

Marty laughed softly. “Sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “I should probably check on my family now. Do they seem any different to you?”

“Marty,” Jennifer said, both annoyed and amused, “if you changed history, I wouldn’t know it happened, because I would have changed with it.”

“Right,” Marty said. His brow furrowed. “How come you get this time travel stuff so easy, anyway?”

Jennifer shrugged. “Michelle, I guess. You know she’s a _huge_ sci-fi fan—.”

“I know,” Marty said. “You had my Dad meet her and give her an autographed book.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Jennifer said, annoyed at being interrupted, “she had me read this book she was really into that was about time travel, and it made it pretty easy. And there was that _Paradox_ movie last summer; she just got it on tape and we watched it yesterday.”

“Right,” Marty said. “Well, then Dad’s still a famous sci-fi author, Mom’s still a homemaker, Linda still works at the boutique, and Dave’s still at Harvard Business School?

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes,” Jennifer said.

Marty sighed in relief. “Thank God. I guess I’ll go back to Doc’s. I told him I’d be back in two hours. Come on.”

They held hands and began making their way towards the food court.

“Hey,” Jennifer said, “Are you gonna get me something at Robinsons now?” She winked at him. “You said you would.”

Marty chuckled. “Was there really something there you wanted?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Then I’ll get you something.” He kissed her. “I love you, Jen.”

“I love you, too.” She let go of his hand. “I’ll call you tonight, okay? You can tell me more about… you know.”

“I will,” Marty said, and she disappeared into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Marty drove home after that, feeling much more at ease. He could tell that Jennifer hadn’t changed, and it seemed unlikely his family would have, either.

He was nonetheless relieved to see that his father’s BMW was still parked outside their house when he drove up in his truck. As he parked, his father came out of the house and unlocked the BMW’s passenger door.

Marty left his truck and called, “Dad!”

George McFly turned to look over his shoulder. “Oh, hi son,” he said. “I left some housing papers in the car.”

“Is Mom home?” Marty asked.

“Yes,” George said. “We just got back from looking at houses.”

Marty nodded. Since George had made a lot of money off of _A Match Made in Space_ , he and Lorraine had decided that it was time to move away from Lyon Estates and into a larger, better home. Marty felt a little funny about that. He had lived in the house in Lyon Estates his entire life; indeed, his parents had bought it just after they had gotten married, in 1958. But he knew things would be much better in a larger home, especially since both he and Linda were likely to be living at home for the foreseeable future, and Dave would be back over the summer.

George picked the papers off of the seat and closed the door. Quietly, he asked, “Were you with Doctor Brown last night?”

“Yeah.”

“With the…” He hesitated. “The _you know_?”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “He’s over at the garage now, actually.”

George smiled. “That’s great! Your mother and I are a little busy right now; we’re signing the final papers for the sale of the house. Could you have him call me with a good time to stop by?”

“Yeah,” Marty said. He hadn’t actually told Doc that George had figured out that he had built a time machine. He wasn’t sure how Doc would take the news.

George seemed to notice. “Something wrong, son?” he asked.

“Uh, not really, no,” Marty said. “Everything looks fine.”

George looked at his son. “Did you do something again?”

“It’s fine, Dad,” Marty said. “Listen, I’m gonna go back to Doc’s. I’ll give you a call. Okay?”

“Yeah,” George said. He looked a little disappointed, as if he didn’t want to wait. He held up the papers he was holding. “We’d like your input about the houses we’ve looked at.”

Marty nodded. “Don’t worry. I should be back in time for dinner.” He returned to his truck. “Later, Dad.”


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday

May 15, 1986

5:07 P.M.

 

When Marty got back to Doc’s lab, he found that the door was locked. This alarmed him; he wondered if Doc had locked it because there _was_ some danger that they had inadvertently inserted into the timeline. He knocked softly on the door.

“Yo, Doc?”

Marty heard a loud screeching noise, and then the deadbolt turned and the door opened.

“You’re a little early, Marty,” Doc said. He smiled. “Punctuality isn’t typical of you.”

Marty shrugged. “You shouldn’t give me any credit for it, Doc. It just didn’t take me too long to check things out. Everything’s fine with Jen and my family. What about the rest of the world?”

“Come in,” Doc said. As soon as Marty came inside, Doc closed the door, and then dragged the automatic dog feeder across the floor to block the door. The feeder made the awful noise Marty had heard.

“The rest of the world seems fine,” he said as he moved the feeder. He took a breath. “Ronald Reagan’s still the president, George Deukmejian’s still the governor, and Goldie Wilson is still the mayor. There’s no Tannen crime family or anything.”

“Great,” Marty said. “So the only thing different is that Edna and Kid Tannen are happily married now?”

“It would appear so, yes,” Doc said. “Though it remains within the realm of possibility that there have been other changes to the time-stream that we would find less desirable.”

“I dunno, Doc,” Marty said. “It wasn’t like that when I changed things for my parents. Maybe these things just turn out fine in the end.”

Doc frowned. “It’s dangerous to think that way, Marty.” He knelt down beside his bed and began pulling boxes from out beneath it.

“Why is it dangerous?” Marty asked.

Doc sighed. “Because if we think that ‘these things’ automatically reach a satisfactory conclusion, then we will become passive and therefore not take any actions to ensure a satisfactory conclusion, which would lead to an undesirable event sequence.”

Marty took some time to process the words, but he realized it was true. “Right, Doc,” he said. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Assessing which items have not been sold in order to determine the local supply and demand for used equipment.”

“Yeah, sure,” Marty said. He scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, Doc.”

Doc had returned to the boxes, which contained primarily electronic equipment. He looked up at Marty. “What?”

“Listen, I, uh,” he hesitated. He took a deep breath. “I promised Dad that the next time you were in town that he could see the, uh, the time machine.”

Doc stared at Marty for a long moment, his face unreadable.

“ _What_?!” he barked at last.

Marty scratched the back of his neck again. “He figured it out, Doc. That I was the kid in 1955 that got him together with Mom.”

“And how did he manage to do that?”

Marty was chilled by the tone of Doc’s voice. It was clear that he wasn‘t taking the news well.

“Well,” Marty said, “remember the night I went over to his house in the radiation suit and pretended to be an alien?”

“Of course,” Doc said.

“Well, I told him that I was ‘Darth Vader.’ He ended up putting it in his diary, and so once _Star Wars_ came out, he figured out that he was visited by a kid from the future, and he figured that one of his kids had to be him. And, you know, I’m the only one who looks like ‘Calvin Klein.’”

“Great _Scott_ , Marty!” Doc shouted. He leapt to his feet. “That was _incredibly_ irresponsible of you! To give that sort of information about the future to a young man with an incredible fascination with science fiction! And if he had told anyone else, or perhaps contacted George Lucas to see if he had been visited by the same alien—Great Scott, he could have been committed! Or worse—sued!”

“Doc, calm down! None of that happened! Besides, if you were so worried about this sort of thing, then why’d you let me run around 1885 as ‘Clint Eastwood’? Why did _you_ run around 1931 as ‘Carl Sagan’?”

“In the first case,” Doc said, “I had no choice in the matter, as you had already chosen the name. In the second, I needed a way to get your attention across 55 years of time, and an anachronistic alias seemed the best option. And in neither event were the anachronisms likely to be remembered by anyone.”

“There’s a _ravine_ named after me, Doc!” Marty said, pointing in its general direction.

“But—,” Doc began. Then he shook his head. “I suppose I’m overreacting. It’s incredible that your father remembered it, actually, even if he kept a diary. You didn’t know that?”

“That he kept a diary?” Marty asked. ”No. Well, I don’t think he did in the original timeline, but I have some memories of it ‘after.’ And you _are_ overreacting, Doc. Let’s just show him the DeLorean and that’ll be it. That’s all I want to do.”

Doc considered for a moment. “Alright. But I’d prefer it if your father came here.”

”Uh, sure,” Marty said. “I’ll give him a call, then.”

Doc nodded. “Well, you know where the phone is. Just make sure not to mention that I have a time machine.”

“What? You think someone’s tapping your phone?” Marty shook his head. “You’re being a little paranoid, Doc.”

Doc sighed. “I just don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

Marty shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Marty ended up speaking with his mother. She and George were still going through the house papers, and she said that there wasn’t enough time for him to leave before dinner. She also seemed suspicious, or at least confused, by Marty’s request to have his father come to Doc’s lab.

With a heavy sigh, Marty hung up the phone.

“He can’t make it, Doc,” he said. “At least, not until tonight.”

He turned. Doc was still going through a number of boxes. He grunted by way of acknowledgement, but did not look up from the boxes.

“When’ll you be done with that?” Marty asked, coming over. “Could Dad stop by tonight?”

“I suppose so,” Doc said, again not looking up from the boxes. “I have the feeling it’ll take me a few hours to get this done.”

“Sure,” Marty said. “I should probably go home, then.”

“That’s fine,” Doc said. “I’ll remain here and work on this. Though I’m experiencing numerous symptoms of exhaustion, so I might take a nap. Be sure to call before you leave your house.”

Marty nodded. “I’ll do that.  Later, Doc,” he said as he left, petting Einstein on the head before walking out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Thursday

May 15, 1986

9:24 P.M.

 

At dinner that night the McFly family, sans Dave, looking at brochures of various houses George and Lorraine had visited earlier in the day. They wanted some input from their children, but Marty didn’t particularly care, and, judging from her attitude, Linda didn’t either.

Marty noticed that his parents seemed to be partial to a very large house at the top of the hills on the south end of town, west of the interstate: 77 Stonecrest Court. Marty felt that the house was a little ostentatious, but he didn’t object.

As she had promised, Jennifer called shortly after 7 P.M. Marty spoke to her for nearly two hours, explaining the time travel situation in detail.

“You know,” Jennifer said at one point, “A part of me wants to actually go somewhere, and a part of me is terrified by the thought of actually doing it.”

“Believe me,” Marty had said, “I know exactly how you feel.”

“Do you think I could see Doc tomorrow?” she asked. “I guess that wouldn‘t exactly be a fun date night, though.”

“I guess," Marty said. “But remember, I’m seeing _Top Gun_ with the guys tomorrow night.”

Marty was sure he could hear her rolling her eyes. “Come on, Marty, do you have to see it on opening day?”

“Absolutely! Haven’t you seen the commercials, Jen? It’s gonna be awesome!”

Jennifer sighed. “Alright. But you said he’ll be here till Monday, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’m curious about his family.” She paused. “It’s so _weird_ to think of the Doc as a father!”

Marty laughed. “I know. I don’t think it’s sunken in for me yet. It probably won’t until he moves back here full time.”

It was nearly 9:30 when Marty hung up the phone. He left his room and headed for the kitchen. His travels to 1931 had thrown his biological clock off, and he was feeling hungry. He was standing beside the microwave while it popped popcorn when his dad came into the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are,” he said. In a conspiratorial tone, he whispered to Marty, “I told Lorraine that I’m gonna run by Jerry’s place and borrow his copy of _The Terminator_. I’ll drive part of the way to Doctor Brown’s place, and then call the house on my portable. So long as you answer, you can pretend I’m Jennifer and run out to meet her.”

While Marty looked at his father, the microwave beeped.

“Jesus, Dad, couldn’t we wait and sneak out at midnight or something? It’s pretty odd for you to leave the house at all. It’s not like it’s bowling night or poker night.”

“It’s better than her waking up and finding we’re both gone,” George said. He plucked his keys from the bowl by the door. “Remember, answer the phone!” And he was gone.

Marty shook his head. He thought his father was complicating things.

He took the cordless phone from its cradle and sat in the easy chair in the living room, eating popcorn from the bag. The phone rang ten minutes later.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi, is Linda there?” came the voice on the other end.

_Oh crap!_ Marty thought. “Phil, is it?”

“Yeah.”

Marty looked towards Linda’s closed door. He considered lying and telling Phil that she wasn’t home, when the door opened and Linda came out.

“Is that Phil?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Marty said, holding the phone to his ear.

“Well, can I have the phone?”

Marty stared at her blankly for a moment, hoping the call waiting would go off in the next few seconds. It didn’t.

“Yeah,” Marty said, holding out his hand. “Of course.”

Linda snatched the phone from his outstretched hand. “God, Marty, you’ve talked to Jennifer two hours already tonight.” As she walked back to her room, she said over her shoulder, “At this rate, you should move in with her!”

Marty shook his head as Linda closed her door.

He fidgeted on the couch. He hoped Linda would be off the phone quick, given that she had berated him for spending a lot of time on the phone with Jennifer.

Fifteen minutes later, she had yet to come from her room. Marty sighed and walked over to her door. He raised his fist to knock, but was startled when he heard Linda laugh loudly.

“Quit being so jumpy, McFly,” he muttered to himself. He knocked.

“What?!” Linda shouted from behind the closed door.

“Uh,” Marty said, “Has anyone called?”

“Just Dad!” Linda shouted again. “And good God, Marty, you can’t hog the phone all night!”

He sighed and turned towards his parents’ room, and focused on Dave’s door.

Dave was a business student, and he had interned at an office for most of the last year. During that time, he had had his own phone line installed in his room. And he was off to Mexico with his girlfriend for the week.

Marty quietly opened the door. Then, realizing he had no reason to sneak around—he _was_ just simply using his phone—he turned the lights on and walked over to his desk. He picked up the cordless phone, and then realized he didn’t remember his father’s portable number. He didn’t know if he should ask his mother—he didn’t have any excuse to call his father, and he didn’t want to arouse her suspicions. He knew it was probably written down on George’s desk—which was in his parents’ bedroom, which was where his mom was. So that was out.

He thought that maybe it was written somewhere near the phone book, so he set the phone back in its cradle and left his brother’s room.

Just as he closed the door, his mother came into the hall.

“Need his phone, dear?” she asked as she headed into the living room.

“Uh, yeah,” Marty said, following her.

“Well, there’s no need to sneak around if you’re just using his phone,” she said as she started looking for the remote.

“Mom?” Marty asked, puzzled.

“ _Knots Landing_ is almost on,” she explained, “and I can‘t find the remote!”

Marty walked over to the TV and turned it to Channel 2 by hand. Then he picked up the remote from the floor next to the chair he was sitting in, and handed it to his mother.

“Thank you, Marty,” Lorraine sighed, relieved.

Marty simply nodded. He went into his parents’ room, and found his father’s portable number written on its charging station: 673-7550.

He returned to Dave’s room, this time closing the door behind him, and called the number. It rung five times before his father answered.

“Marty, is that you?” he asked.

“Of course it is!” Marty said, nearly shouting. “Jesus, Dad, what happened?”

George sighed. “Linda was on the phone. I wasn’t expecting that, and I didn’t have an excuse prepared, but she was so annoyed at me that she didn’t ask any questions.” He paused. “Now, how do we get you out of the house?”

“I think I can just go,” Marty said. “Remember, _Knots Landing_ is on.”

“Of course! In that case, I’m parked under the overpass on Blue Canyon Road. Could you meet me there?”

“Sure. I’ll take my board.”

After he hung up, Marty grabbed his skateboard from his room. He hesitated as he stood in the hallway in the front of the house.

“Mom, I’m going out!”

“ _Shh!_ ” his mother hissed.

Marty shook his head and left the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday

May 15, 1986

10:38 P.M.

 

Shortly thereafter, George’s BMW pulled into the parking lot in front of Doc’s garage.

“Is it inside?” George asked.

“Yeah,” Marty said. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he had seen his father as excited as he was now. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been like this even when he got the book deal for _Match_.

Marty and George made their way to the door. Marty knocked.

“Hey, Doc?" he called. “We’re here."

Once again, there was a screeching sound and then the deadbolt opened.

“Hello, George," Doc said.

“Hi," George said, stepping past Doc to the DeLorean beyond him.

Marty followed, making sure to lock the door behind him. He didn’t move the dog feeder back into place, however; it was just too hard for him to do it alone.

_How can Doc do it by himself?_ he wondered. _He’s gotta be eighty years old now!_

George looked at the time machine, looking from the front of the car to the back.

“You made a time machine...out of a _DeLorean_?!” George asked, amazed.

Marty smiled a little. After all, he had asked the same question, in the exact same way, when he had first seen it.

“The stainless steel construction,” Doc said, “makes the flux dispersal smooth and enables a temporal displacement to occur using an unusually low amount of power.”

George ran his finger gently across the hood. He held out his hand. “Marty’s given me to understand that without this, my life would have been quite miserable.”

Doc shook his hand. “Perhaps. But the actions you have taken in the course of your life have been your own.”

“Still,” George said, walking past Doc to examine the equipment on the back of the time machine. “‘Mr. Fusion’?”

“The power supply,” Doc explained. “I needed a cheap source of energy that could provide the 1.21 gigawatts necessary for temporal displacement.”

Marty stood back, watching his father examine the time machine. His father pulled his glasses from his suit pocket and put them on. He then leaned over the back of the time machine and stared at the Mr. Fusion unit. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, as if to prevent himself from touching the time machine.

“Did you make this, too?” he asked.

“No,” Doc replied. “The cold fusion device is from the year 2030. The time machine was originally powered by a plutonium reactor.”

George simply nodded. If he remembered anything about the incident with the Libyan terrorists, he didn’t say anything. Marty, meanwhile, wondered why Doc had never mentioned that he had gone to 2030 to get the fusion device. And where had the rest of the plutonium gone, anyway?

George then regarded Doc for a moment. “Marty told me you were living in the 19th Century.”

Doc nodded. “When I last left, it was Sunday, September 16, 1894.”

George nodded again. He gestured towards the driver’s seat. “Would you mind if I sat behind the wheel?”

“I suppose so,” Doc said after some hesitation.

George smiled. “I can resist the urge to use it, Doctor Brown.  I don’t even know how to start it.”

“Of course,” Doc said.

George and Doc walked over to the driver’s side of the car. Doc opened the door and George sat in the driver’s seat. He gently caressed the steering wheel with his hands, and then began looking around the car. He then fingered the time display.

“Can you turn it on?” he asked. “I’m curious as to how this works.”

Doc hesitated again. Marty walked around the back of the DeLorean and approached his father.

“You see that T-shaped switch just behind the gear shift?” he asked over his father’s shoulder. “Turn that. That’ll turn the time circuits on.”

George did so. His eyes widened as the LED display lit up. He certainly had never seen something like that before.

“It says you last came from October 13, 1931, at 10:35 PM,” he noted.

“Yeah, we were both there,” Marty said.

George turned to look at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Hey, did you know that Grandma used to be a lounge singer?”

“You’re kidding,” George said. He turned back to the time display. “How do you enter a time?”

“Type it in on the keypad, and then press the green button,” Marty said. He looked up at Doc. “What are the other buttons for, anyway?”

“Emergency functions, mainly,” he said, frowning. He watched as George typed in ‘411938.’ There was a ringing sound that Marty hadn’t heard before, and the destination time display showed all 8‘s.

“Include the zeros,” Doc said.

George nodded, and typed in ‘04011938’ and pressed the green button. The destination time now read _APR 01 1938 06:00 AM._

“I wouldn’t recommend going back to your birthday,” Doc said nervously.

George smiled. “I’m a writer of science fiction, Doctor Brown. I have a firmer grasp of the consequences of time travel than most people.” He leaned back in the seat. “Son, what was Grandma like as a young woman?”

Marty groaned and scratched the back of his head. “She was actually the… moll, is the word, I guess, for Biff’s father, before Grandpa came along. He ran a speakeasy.”

George shook his head. “I guess I didn’t need to know that. I notice you left right after her and Grandpa’s wedding.”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “I didn’t really mean to do that. At the time, I didn’t know she was Grandma. She was going by a stage name, Trixie, and she was so young, I guess, that I didn’t recognize her. I thought she was just a girlfriend of Grandpa’s that I didn’t know about. I flipped at first when I found out they had gotten married. I thought I wouldn’t exist! They weren’t supposed to get married until 1936.”

George looked at Marty, clearly puzzled. “1936? Why didn’t they get married after John was born?”

Marty felt a numb sensation in his chest, and Doc, who had been listening the whole time, paled.

“Who’s John?” Marty asked.

“‘Who’s John’?” George echoed. “My older brother. Your uncle? He was born in 1933. It seems odd to me that Mom and Dad wouldn’t have married when she found out she was pregnant with him, given the stigma that unwed mothers experienced at that—Marty, what’s wrong?”

Marty gulped. “Dad, when we left, you were an only child.”

“You _created_ my brother?!” George’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“I guess, yeah,” Marty said. “I don’t remember him at all. I don’t even know if I have cousins!”

George nodded. “You do. They’re all older than you, a son and two daughters. Darren, Connie, and Janet. You haven’t been particularly close to them, but Janet was a senior when you were a freshman and she helped you a little with your homework.”

Doc finally found his voice. “Great Scott!” he cried, bringing his hand to his head. With a great sigh, he leaned onto the DeLorean.

“Doc!” Marty shouted as he ran over to him. “What’s wrong, Doc? So we created a person. I mean, we know time travel can _erase_ someone; it’s happened to _both_ of us! So I guess it can work the other way, too.”

Doc shook his head. “Marty, introducing a person into the timeline who was not present originally represents a _massive_ disruption. Consider that your three cousins did not exist originally. But their mother could easily have been married to someone _else_ , and had children; and now _their_ children no longer exist! And whoever she married originally may have married someone else who had married someone else, and now _their_ children no longer exist! This is a catastrophic disruption!”

Marty gulped. “So what are we supposed to do?”

George got out of the car and shook his fist at him. “You are not erasing my brother!” he shouted.

Doc stood up. “No, of course not.” He ran down towards the garage door, and began pacing rapidly.

George angrily shook his finger at Doc. “I understand the consequences, Doctor Brown. Writer of science fiction, remember? But John is _family_. Darren, Connie, and Janet are family. You’re not changing that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Doc whispered. “It certainly isn’t my responsibility.”

He walked over to the time machine. He slammed the door shut. “Just because we have this infernal machine doesn’t mean we have the right to play God.” He shook his head. “Just when I think…” He sighed. “I’ll have to destroy the time machine!”

“No, Doc,” Marty began.

“Marty! I had thought that the timeline corrected itself. It would explain why you still exist.”

“What do you mean?” Marty asked.

“Consider,” Doc said. “With every conception, 250 million sperm cells vie to fertilize the egg. That means there are 250 million possible individuals that could result from any fertilization. The slightest change—a difference of timing by mere microseconds—should, according to theory, result in the creation of a new person. And since you changed the circumstances of your parents’ lives, the circumstances of your conception changed drastically. You, the rest of your siblings, indeed, every person born since November of 1955, should not have been born, but been replaced by completely new individuals.”

“Chaos theory,” George said.

“Precisely!”

“I don’t get it, Doc,” Marty said. He cast an uneasy look at his father. “I don’t really want to talk about the, uh, circumstances of my conception, but nothing changed, Doc. Everyone at school is exactly the same as they were before I left the first time. You know, I’d notice if I got home and Jennifer looked completely different. But it didn’t happen Doc.”

George crossed his arms. “I employed the chaos theory of time travel in my first published story,” he said, “so I’m familiar with the implications you’ve laid out. But I would think that if the past were so sensitive, traveling back would not be possible in real life.”

Doc was silent. He looked thoughtful.

After a few moments, Marty, eager to change the subject, asked “Dad, do you have a picture of my cousins?”

“Actually, I do,” George said, reaching for his wallet. “From Christmas of ‘83.” He pulled the picture from his wallet and handed it to Marty.

Marty examined the picture. The older man—John McFly, without doubt—looked vaguely familiar, but he realized this was due to family resemblance rather than any recognition. In fact, Marty didn’t recognize any of the people in the picture, though he knew the memories would come in time.

“What’s my aunt’s name?” he asked.

“Shirley,” George replied.

At this, Doc snapped out of his reverie and snatched the picture from Marty’s hand.

“Doc!” Marty cried, “What the hell?”

“Great Scott!” he cried again. “This is Shirley Jo Sanders!”

“You know her?” George asked.

“How could I forget?” he said. His hand shook. “She was a student of mine at Hill Valley College. One of the few people I met before Marty that treated me as a friend. I had interpreted this as flirtation however, and did not see it for what it really was. Thus, I have felt great regret ever since she—.” He gulped.

“What is it?” George asked.

“It was a cry for help. You see, Miss Sanders killed herself, on December 13, 1954.”

They both stared at Doc in shock.

“Well,” George said, “Shirley always says that John ‘saved her life.’ I never knew she meant it literally!”

Marty suddenly began laughing.

George looked at his son. “What’s so funny, Marty?” he asked.

“What did I tell you, Doc?” Marty said. “That these things work themselves out for the best in the end? This proves it! This guy, my uncle, married a woman who killed herself in the original timeline. She never was married to someone else who now is married to someone else. There’s no chaos! You said that you thought that time corrected itself? It did! It made sure Uncle John married someone who didn’t have children originally.” Suddenly realizing, he shouted, “It’s like you and Clara! She would have died without you! So no disruption of the space-time continuum!”

Doc stared at Marty, and then broke out into a wide grin. He handed the picture back to Marty, who handed it back to his father.

“Well,” he said, “Perhaps you’re right about that, Marty. Still, these are serious concerns and we must be careful in the future. I don’t think we should count on things just working out.”

“Doc, I’m not saying that we just sit back and let things go haywire,” Marty said. “It’s just...interesting, I guess.”

“It’s a compelling piece of evidence,” the scientist concurred. “Why, it’s almost evidence for some sort of divine intervention.”

“Not necessarily,” George said. “But certainly a sort of cosmic law.”

Doc stared at the author for a moment. “What do you know about this sort of thing?” he asked. “I thought your stories focused exclusively on extraterrestrials.”

“Not _exclusively_ ,” George said with a laugh. “And besides, I read everything I can.” Eager for a change of subject, he asked, “Marty tells me you have a family now?”

Doc smiled broadly, an expression Marty didn’t think he had seen on the inventor’s face before. He then opened the DeLorean’s trunk and retrieved a large wallet.

“My Nineteenth Century wallet,” he explained. “It’s not that different from a Twentieth Century wallet; however, the currency of the time is much larger than that of the present, hence the large size.” He retrieved a small tintype from one of the folds. “This picture was taken at Mr. Cundy’s studio on Tuesday, August 7, 1894. It’s the most recent photograph I have.”

He handed the photo to George. Marty looked over his shoulder to get a glimpse; he had last seen Doc’s children on October 27, 1985, and he had never spent any time with them.

In the picture, Doc and Clara were standing, dressed in formal wear suited to the period, with Clara on Doc’s left. Their two children were sitting on chairs in front of them, also in formal wear. However, the blond child on the right, Verne, was also wearing a decidedly informal coonskin cap, as he had been the last time Marty saw him. Jules was wearing a hat as well. All four of them were unsmiling and staring directly into the camera.

“Verne’s the one in the cap,” Doc said with clear pride. “Jules takes himself much more seriously— _too_ seriously, Clara thinks. But he did wear that hat.”

“What’s with Jules’s hat?” George asked.

Doc stared at him as if he had asked which person in the photograph was him and which was his wife, before he realized. “Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you? That’s not formal wear. It’s rather the kind of hat preferred by railroad conductors. Letting them wear those hats in a formal portrait is something other parents would frown upon, but Clara and I don’t care much for such trifles.” He smiled. “This entices some jealousy from the other children. Apparently, we are the most ‘rip-roaring’ parents in town.”

“How do they feel about moving to the Twentieth Century?” Marty asked.

Doc cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that the boys completely understand. Jules is seven and a half, and Verne is just short of six. They have a rudimentary understanding of what’s going on, but I’m not sure they grasp the permanence. Clara, though, can hardly wait to make the transition.”

“Really?” Marty asked. “Why?”

“She has no ties there,” Doc explained. “You see, when we married, I was a lowly blacksmith, while her parents were highfalutin types. They insisted that their daughter not marry someone of such low station, and they wanted the marriage annulled. When Clara refused, they disowned her.” He shook his head. “It also didn’t help that I was so much older than she. I lied and told them I was _forty_ -one, rather than _seventy_ -one, but I don’t think that would have made much of a difference in their minds.”

“That’s too bad, Doc,” Marty said.

Doc merely shrugged.

“‘Highfalutin’?” George quoted, amused.

Doc blushed. “I’m afraid I’ve lived in the Nineteenth Century far too long. I’ve picked up a lot of their slang. I hope I’ll be able to make the transition easily enough, but it will be a bit hard for Clara and the boys. The boys can say they picked it up from westerns, I suppose, but with Clara it would be harder to explain.”

“Well, you can cross that bridge when you come to it,” George said, handing the photograph back to Doc.

Doc returned the photograph to the wallet. “We’ll be crossing that bridge sooner rather than later. We plan to leave on October 1, and arrive exactly one hundred years later.”

“But I _will_ see you before then, right?” Marty asked.

“Oh, certainly,” Doc said. “But I’m not going to tell you when. Let’s just say I’ve timed things strategically to account for future events.”

“Right,” Marty said, sounding disappointed. “So, that’s it? You’ll just leave now?”

“That‘s the plan,” Doc said.

“Wait a second,” George interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Doctor Brown, I understand the responsibilities inherent in time travel, but could I take a trip in the time machine? Say, forward a bit?”

Doc considered this. “I suppose. But I’d prefer it if Marty went with you. He knows how to operate the time machine, after all.”

“Very well,” he said. “Shall we, son?”

“Just one minute,” Doc said, as he opened the garage door.

“He’s just a little paranoid,” Marty explained, “because of ‘recent events.’ You know Edna Strickland?”

George shook his head while Marty opened the DeLorean’s passenger door. “No, I don’t think so.”

“She’s Edna _Tannen_ now, Marty,” Doc said. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Marty said.

“Oh,” George said. “Well, I’ve seen her around. Biff’s mentioned her on occasion. She’s pushed quite hard for him to reconcile with his father.”

“Well, back in ‘31 she stole the DeLorean and went back to 1876. She ended up burning the whole town down!"

Doc stepped out of the now open garage door and looked about. “I’d rather we do this outside of town. Do you think you both could drive out to the abandoned house on Big Ranch Road? Will Lorraine be suspicious if you’re gone?”

“Not particularly,” George said. “She missed _Knots Landing_ last week, so I imagine she’ll barely notice so long as we’re back by eleven. Though I’ll need to fabricate some sort of excuse, just in case.” He quickly added, “I never told her about the time machine. You know, considering her feelings for ‘Mr. Klein.’”

“That’s probably wise,” Doc said. He looked at one of his watches. “It’s 10:48 P.M. now. It’ll take us at least ten minutes to get out there, and ten for you to return, in addition to however long you jump forward. Would it be better if we wait until tomorrow?”

Marty opened his mouth to say “yes,” since he wanted Doc to stay longer, but George said, “Well, let me call Lorry. I think I can tell her I’m on one of my ‘inspiration drives’ and won’t be home until later.”

Doc nodded.

“Where’s the phone?” George asked. “I left my portable in the car.”

Doc pointed to it, and while George was on the phone with Lorraine, Marty came over to Doc.

“Hey, Doc?” he asked. “Do you think you could stick around until tomorrow night? Jennifer would like to see you before you go.”

“Oh, of course,” Doc said. “I can’t believe that that slipped my mind. I suppose, then, I can leave tomorrow night. At what time would you come over?”

Marty thought about it for a moment. “About ten-thirty, I guess. I’m seeing a movie with the guys at eight.”

“That would be acceptable,” Doc said.

George hung up the phone and turned to Marty and Doc.

“Lorraine didn’t have a problem with it,” he said, “though she was a little annoyed by it. She’s also wondering where you are, Marty. What did you tell her?”

“Nothing,” Marty said. “She just told me not to interrupt the show.”

George chuckled. “Fine. We’ll go out, then?”

Doc nodded. “Marty, once I get the DeLorean out of the garage, can you help me close the door? George, you can go on to the house, and we’ll follow.”

“Sure,” George said.


	5. Chapter 5

Thursday

May 15, 1986

11:11 P.M.

 

George and Marty were largely silent during their trip to the east side of town, where Big Ranch Road was located. They headed south along John F. Kennedy Drive, which passed under Interstate 80 and became Emigrant Gap Road and turned east. Big Ranch Road ran north-south off Emigrant Gap Road three miles outside of town. George drove twice the speed limit after they got outside of town, which alarmed Marty—especially since George was usually a careful driver.

They turned right when they reached Big Ranch Road, which went both directions. They traveled down it for nearly a mile, where they found the DeLorean parked at the side of the road. There was mainly forest on that side, but the DeLorean was parked in a driveway. As George turned the car, the headlights illuminated the trees, revealing a rusted iron gate. It was nearly invisible in the trees, and overgrown with vines besides. However, the letters “BROWN RANCH” were visible on the top of the gate.

“So he’s _that_ Brown?” George asked, amazed.

Before Marty could ask “What Brown?”, the DeLorean’s door opened. Doc waved to them, and then walked over to the gate and opened it, motioning for George to drive through. Through the mirror, Marty and George saw him drive the DeLorean in before closing the gate.

With George in front, he led the way down a windy, gravel road flanked by thick trees on both sides. It felt as if they were driving through a tunnel. They continued for nearly a minute before they emerged into a very large clearing. Some distance away, they saw the house in the moonlight.

Dark though it was, it was clear that the house had seen better days. It seemed to be struggling to hold itself up. It was three stories, with the third story having dormer windows, with a circular turret on one side, topped with a conical roof. The roof of the house was steep. There was a large porch that extended from the middle of the front of the house and down along the right side of the house, where the tower was, wrapping around it. A short distance away, there was a barn that had already partially collapsed.

As they drove towards it, Doc pulled the DeLorean around them and parked. George parked the car in front of the house, near the DeLorean. The house, illuminated by four headlights, had a ghostly appearance that really creeped Marty out.

Doc, who was inspecting the house, turned when George parked, and motioned for them to get out.

George stepped outside of the car, but did not turn it off. “Should I keep the headlights on?” he asked.

“That would probably help,” Doc said as Marty got out of the car. “It’s highly unlikely that it would be stolen out here!”

Marty slowly walked up to the house, looking up at the decaying roof.

“Why are we here, Doc?” he asked. “Did your family used to own this place?”

“In a matter of speaking,” Doc said. Marty looked at him. He continued, “This is the house where my family lives in the Nineteenth Century. I built this house in 1890.”

“So you _are_ that Brown,” George said.

“‘That Brown’?” Doc asked, wincing. “Did I leave a conspicuous legacy?”

“Not exactly,” George said. “When Marty told me that you were living in the 1800s, I looked at some books on local history and found mention of an ‘E.R. Brown’ and family who lived here in the 1890s. He was apparently quite wealthy. There were no photos of him or his family, however.”

Doc, who did not realize he was holding his breath, exhaled. “That’s very fortunate. Once I realized I would have to leave the century, I tried very hard to erase all traces of myself and my family. It was fortunate that I had chosen to go by the name ‘E.R.’ when I arrived in 1885.”

“Why would you do that?” Marty asked.

“My middle name is ‘Lathrop,’ which was my mother’s maiden name, and my mother’s family was already living in Hill Valley at the time.”

Marty nodded. He was wondering why Doc’s family was wealthy, but he didn’t get a chance to ask as George asked first, “So can I use the time machine now?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Doc said. “Though I don’t think it would be wise for you to depart on the ground. The time machine leaves fire trails behind when it undergoes temporal displacement, and that could ignite the grasses here. It would be best to leave from the air.”

“It _flies_?!” George asked, amazed.

Doc nodded. “A Twenty-First Century modification. Marty would have to pilot, however. Would you be satisfied if he did so?”

“Fine by me,” George said.

“I think he can fly it, Doc,” Marty said. “I figured out how to fly it pretty quickly. It’s not _that_ hard.”

“Very well,” Doc said. He led George to the driver’s seat. “I was thinking that a positive displacement of one minute would suffice.”

“That’ll do,” George said. He seemed to have no problem with parsing what Doc was saying, which amazed Marty.

Doc smiled as the two got into the car. “See you in a minute,” he said.

George smiled and closed the door. Marty followed suit.

Marty ran his hand across his face. “Alright. I guess we should dive a little that way,” he said, pointing to the left. “It looks like we’ll have a lot of room there.”

George nodded, and drove the car forty feet away from the house, then stopped.

“How do you get it to fly?” he asked.

“Pull the steering wheel towards you,” Marty said. “You know, like an airplane. There’ll be a little click, and we’ll start hovering.”

George did so, and gasped as the car started to lift off the ground.

“Now, push the steering wheel up,” Marty said. “Not towards you or away, just straight up. That’ll make us lift off.”

Again, George did so, and gasped even louder. When they had ascended forty feet, Marty said, “Now let go of the wheel.”

George let go of the wheel, and the car stopped rising.

“Okay,” Marty said. “Now hit the gas until we get to 88.”

“We have to be moving?” George asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Marty said. “Oh, we’ll have to put the time in, first.”

“Right,” George said. He looked at the time display: 11:15 PM. He keyed in _051519862316_ , and the destination time switched from George’s birthday, the last setting, to _MAY 15 1986 11:16 PM_.

“Okay,” George said, grabbing the gear shift. “Let’s go.”

He hit the gas, and they were both thrown back by the sudden acceleration. They continued, straight towards the tree line. Behind them, various pieces of equipment beeped and whirred. Then, the flux capacitor glowed bright white, and there was a brilliant flash as they jumped forward one minute.

George took his foot off the gas and they coasted to a stop. His hands were shaking. He looked at the time display. The present time now matched the destination time: _11:16 PM_. He looked out the window.

“Look!” he said, pointing. “The moon’s changed position!”

“Uh-huh,” Marty said.

“That was exhilarating!” George shouted, hugging his son as best he could while inside the DeLorean’s small cabin.

“Yeah, Dad,” Marty said, understanding but not sharing his father’s enthusiasm.

George let go of his son, an antic look on his face.

“You know,” Marty said nervously, “we can’t go anywhere else.”

George looked deflated. “Of course. Should I bring us back down?”

“Yeah,” Marty said. He directed him how to turn around and land the DeLorean back where Doc was waiting.

With some hesitation, George exited the car. Marty followed.

“It’s incredible, Doctor Brown,” George said. “You must give me the opportunity some day to actually take it somewhere!”

Doc smiled, though to Marty it seemed a little pained. “Of course. Though I’m afraid I can’t promise that that will happen soon.”

George shook Doc’s hand. “Believe me; just that little jump was enough.” He looked back at the DeLorean. “It’s amazing to know that time travel is possible in real life. I have to wonder what else you’re capable of, Doctor.”

This time, Doc’s smile was genuine. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough! There are some papers I intend to publish over the next few years that will change everything!”

“You’re not going to inform the public about time travel?” George asked, worried.

“Certainly not!” Doc said. “The ethical issues _alone_ that such a revelation would entail would be staggering. But if people by the thousands had access to time travel, it would be catastrophic!”

“So what are you going to publish?” George asked.

Doc shook his head. “Though I can’t tell you,  I can give you some science fiction advice.”

“Yes?”

Doc smiled again. “Soon, ‘impulse drive’ will be much more feasible.”

George nodded and seemed to understand what Doc was getting at. Marty, however, did not.

“What are you saying, Doc?” he asked.

“Never mind that now,” Doc said, returning to the DeLorean. “You two should probably get home, now. I have some other things I have to take care of. Don’t worry, Marty, I’ll be back by tomorrow night.”

Marty nodded.

Doc opened the DeLorean’s door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

With a smile and a nod, Doc entered the DeLorean and closed the door. The DeLorean swiftly took to the sky and disappeared in a flash.

George gazed wistfully after it for a moment.

“Come on, Dad,” Marty said, grabbing his father by the arm. “Let’s go home.”


	6. Chapter 6

Friday

May 16, 1986

10:47 P.M.

 

Marty was rather distracted on Friday, and a little angry at himself. He knew Doc would be leaving at the end of the day, only to return after God-Knows-When, and here he was watching a stupid action movie that he could just as easily watched the next day.

By the time his truck pulled into the parking lot in front of Doc’s garage, it was a quarter till eleven. He noticed that Jennifer’s car, an old white Ford Granada, was parked out front, but the DeLorean was nowhere in sight. Marty assumed that it was inside the garage.

That assumption was proven incorrect when Jennifer opened the door.

“Where’s Doc?” Marty asked. “Where’s the DeLorean?”

“It’s out in the alley,” she said. She kissed him. “How was the movie?”

“Uh, great,” Marty said. Jennifer stepped outside and closed the door, then took the keys out of her purse and locked the door.

“What’s going on?” Marty asked.

Jennifer sighed. “Doc said he wants to leave as soon as possible,” she said. “He wouldn’t tell me why, though.”

Marty and Jennifer walked towards the back of the lab. Behind Doc’s lab was a small dirt alleyway, and beyond that was a lawn that abutted the Bear River. The DeLorean was out back and running.

“Hey,” Marty asked, “Is your dad okay with you being out this late?”

Jennifer scoffed. “Yeah, but so what? I’m 18 now.”

Marty felt that it wasn’t a good idea for her to piss off her father while she still lived with him, but he didn’t say anything.

As they reached the car, the driver’s door opened and Doc got out.

“Good, you’re here,” he said. “I need to leave as soon as I can. Do you think you could add a second deadbolt to the door, or perhaps an alarm system? It would greatly put my mind at ease. The time machine blueprints are in there, after all. You remember the combination to the safe?”

“We do, Doc,” Marty said. Jennifer nodded in agreement. Marty continued, “But where are we going to get the money to buy an alarm system?”

“There’s some cash in the safe,” Doc explained. “Take what you need. I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Marty said.

Marty had noticed that Doc was already dressed in his Nineteenth Century clothes: a crisp black suit with a waistcoat, a white shirt, and a bow tie.

Doc opened the DeLorean’s door. He turned to the couple. “I can’t thank the two of you enough for being there for me for all those years.”

Marty shrugged modestly. “I guess it was kinda meant to be, Doc.”

Doc hesitated a moment. He asked Jennifer, “Would you mind giving me and Marty a moment alone?”

She seemed neither surprised nor offended by this request. “Sure thing, Doc.” She walked a few yards down the alleyway.

When she was out of earshot, Doc put a hand on Marty’s shoulder.

“Marty, I really can’t thank you enough. You were the first real friend I have had in many years, and until I met you I had never realized how lonely I was. And without you, I would have been dead long ago; either in the Lone Pine Mall parking lot, or in 1885, or in 1992.”

“1992?” Marty asked.

Doc looked uncomfortable. “Well, when I first went to the future, and before I had my rejuvenation, I learned that that was when I died. From colon cancer, apparently.”

“And after your rejuvenation?”

Doc was definitely uncomfortable now. He hesitated.

“Okay, forget it, Doc,” Marty said. He hugged him. “Believe me, I owe you a lot, too. You gave me the chance to give my family a better life, you know?” He let go. “And it’s been great for me that you’ve always been there, even though I probably got on your nerves a lot.”

Doc shrugged. “Nah.” He smiled. “Well, when you were 15 and found out I had a _Playboy_ subscription, you kept asking to see one for weeks!”

Marty laughed. “Yeah, I remember that.” He thought for a moment. “You know how I have two memories of everything before I traveled in time? I don’t have two memories of us meeting. I think it happened the same way both times. It’s like it was meant to be.”

“Interesting,” Doc said. “You know, I’ve been wondering if there’s a sort of ‘soft destiny’ at work here. At the very least, the timeline seems to be self-correcting to a certain degree, considering that—.”

“Doc,” Marty said, holding up a hand to silence him. “You’re losing me.” He frowned. “Does _that_ get on your nerves?”

Doc once again put his hand on Marty’s shoulder. He made eye contact and smiled. “Marty, that has never concerned me. In fact, the fact that you don’t always understand my ramblings helps ground me. I’ve missed that the past nine years.”

Doc stood. “I guess I should get going.”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “Jennifer!”

Jennifer headed toward them. Doc meanwhile sat in the DeLorean’s driver’s seat and typed in a date. Marty and Jennifer could both see it: _SEP 16 1894 10:27 PM_.

“That’s home?” Marty asked.

“For now,” Doc said.

“You know,” Marty said, “I haven’t seen Clara or your kids since last October.”

“And I’d like to meet them, Doc,” Jennifer said. “I _love_ kids.”

Doc smiled. “Don’t worry. That’ll happen soon enough. And don’t worry.” He smiled mischievously. “You’ll both find that your lives will soon be quite interesting, even without me in it.”

As he reached for the door’s pull strap, Jennifer put her hand on the door.

“Doc?”

Doc looked up.

Jennifer hesitated a moment. Finally, she began, “You know, when Marty introduced me to you, I was still a cheerleader.”

“I remember,” Doc said.

“Well, I think that knowing you helped me realize that I shouldn’t care about the bullshit people say. I mean, everyone thinks you’re crazy, and you don’t care, and I greatly admire that. And I was so worried about what the other girls thought, about my obligations to them, about being ‘too smart’ to be a cheerleader.” She smiled. “The point is, I wouldn’t have quit the squad without your example, and I’d be having a miserable senior year. So thank you.”

He smiled back. “You’re quite welcome.”

Jennifer let go of the door.

“Well,” Doc said, “I’ll see you both in the future.”

“Or the past!” Marty laughed.

“Perhaps,” Doc said with a wink. He closed the door.

Marty and Jennifer stepped back. Doc started the engine, and the DeLorean’s wheels rotated into the hovering position. The couple waved as the DeLorean flew south along the alleyway, then looped around in a wide arc, before accelerating and disappearing in a brilliant flash as it passed over their heads.

As the embers from the fire trail fell to the ground, Marty slipped his hand around Jennifer’s waist.

“I wonder what he meant about our lives becoming more interesting,” he said to her.

Jennifer leaned into him. “Hopefully, we’ll find out soon enough.”

THE END / TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
